Da Dow

These days Nash has two responses to everything we say to him. Do you want more applesauce? Dada. Say Mama. Da Dow. Why won't you say Mama? Dada! It's only fun on Saturday morning when I ask, who should go to work today? DA DOW! Lack of motherly love aside, Nash is doing great. He cruises from us to the chair to the table and other chair and back again. He likes to stand alone without holding onto anything, but can't do it for very long. (He's sitting next to me while I type playing with mail and rings and handing them to Ray saying "Da dow!") Then he falls and bangs something. He handles it well though. He doesn't really dig his jumperoo anymore, it's not nearly as exciting as checking out whatever that thing is over there on the floor. He's crawling towards the stairs. Maybe it's time to teach stairs.